


The Halla Princess

by al_fletcher, athenril_of_kirkwall (al_fletcher)



Series: Aether Effect (With Smut) [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fluff, Haven (Dragon Age), Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_fletcher/pseuds/al_fletcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_fletcher/pseuds/athenril_of_kirkwall
Summary: Rivka tells Solas a story.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan & Solas
Series: Aether Effect (With Smut) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1227941
Kudos: 5
Collections: DA Drunk Writing Circle Prompt Fics





	The Halla Princess

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for: “That’s how the story goes.”, for Solavellan.
> 
> The story in this fic is a Dalish-ified version of 'The White Doe': https://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/lfb/or/orfb23.htm

“Finally, Fen’Harel bit off his own tail, and away he fled,” Rivka recited with all the theatricality the tale warranted, “And ever since, the Dread Wolf thinks twice about playing his tricks when dogs are on guard.”

The elven children in Haven laughed and clapped as she concluded her story. From where they were sitting around her on whichever boxes and barrels they could find, arranged in a circle around the hearth which Varric normally hung around, they began to disperse and head to the various odd jobs which they’d been assigned to around the Inquisition camp.

Rivka watched them leave with a smile on her face as she warmed her palms, before noticing someone in the corner of her vision descend the stairs on her left. It was her fellow elven mage Solas, using his staff in the manner of a hiking pole.

“Forgive me if I’m intruding,” he said, approaching the fire, “But I overheard the end of your tale, and I simply had some questions.”

Gesturing to one of the taller crates, Rivka said, “Ask away, although I’m now suspecting that you’re going to correct me on the details.”

“Not at all,” Solas said, shaking his head with a chuckle. “It merely seemed to me that you were very comfortable telling those stories.”

Feeling herself blush a little, Rivka answered, “Well, that’s logical enough. Back when I was in training to be the First of my clan, one of the duties I had was to take care of those too young to help with tasks, or even those who were between their errands, and since one of my other duties was remembering all the tales I thought I’d substitute in for the hahrens.”

Nodding as he understood, he said. “Your practice does you credit, lethallan. That was a tale well-told.”

Glancing away from the fire to him, Rivka said glibly, “But not well-composed? Perhaps there was something in the Fade that you saw which…”

Laughing, he said, “You think too much and too little of me at once. That was a children’s story, was it not? Every tale needs a villain, after all. But tell me, do you know any that have Fen’harel using his cunning?”

Thinking for a while, Rivka said, “I think I do, but surely you’ve better things to do than sit by a dying fireside and listen to old stories, not when you could see them for yourself?”

“Humour me, Rivka,” Solas said. “Besides, there is scarce little for inconvenient apostate mages to do whilst we wait for Lady Nightingale’s little messengers to return. Unless you’d rather scrounge around for ores and prospective logging sites in today’s chill…?”

Reflexively shivering, Rivka said, “I guess not. Have you heard of the Tale of the Slow Arrow, Solas?”

“I might have, but I’d like to hear your take on it,” he answered.

She began her story, narrating how a great beast was terrorising a village, with its inhabitants begging Fen’Harel to intercede by slaying the beast. Rivka continued by explaining that Fen’Harel’s only answer was to loose an arrow into the sky, letting the beast kill and eat the elders, the men and the women, who cursed his name as they died, and concluded that the arrow fell from the sky, killing the beast in a single stroke, before it was able to eat the children, who despite their grave losses still gave him thanks and offerings.

Turning to her, Solas asked, “What do you think the moral of that story was?”

Rivka shook her head, saying, “I rarely told that one, mainly because the adults didn’t want me telling their children they could die so horribly, so I don’t really know. If Fen’harel’s arrow was so powerful why didn’t he shoot the beast on sight? If he knew the beast would be there why didn’t he tell the adults to hide when it came? We only have fragments of stories, and we’re supposed to make sense of them all.”

“Perhaps Fen’Harel’s arrow was powerful but not himself,” Solas thought aloud, “and perhaps the beast would not have been positioned where it was, were the beast to find the village empty. It might have been that Fen’Harel reckoned that there was to be a cost either way, and saved the children such that the village might have a future.”

“A future where they owed that great debt to the Dread Wolf, doubtless,” Rivka said. “Still, that’s hard to argue with, I suppose.”

“Have you any which have less grim endings, at any rate?” Solas asked. “Happy endings seem to be rare in our times.”

Rivka giggled, saying, “You’re like a _child_ , Solas!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“They never let me stop at just the one story, and they always wanted the ones with happy endings, too,” she answered. “But all right, Solas, I’ll tell you one of my favourite ones then.”

“I’m privileged,” he said. “Which one is it?”

Rivka looked into the flames, concentrating. “It’s the one called ‘The Halla Princess’.”

“This sounds good already. A Dalish princess?”

“Well, it’s said to be set in ancient Arlathan,” Rivka said, “Where the elves had their own kingdoms and their own great chiefs, and their sons and daughters would be betrothed to each other just like the humans and dwarves do these days.”

“That seems fair,” he said. “Ancient memories suggest—”

“With all due respect, Solas,” Rivka said, “Do you want to hear the story, or not?”

Raising his palms in surrender, he said, “Very well, I shan’t interrupt with historical context again.”

“Good,” she said, continuing,

> “There was a princess born to a great noble house, whose birth was attended by all the creatures of land and sea save for the spider, who cursed the Princess Tasallan to turn into a halla the instant she came in contact with sunlight.
> 
> “Her parents were very ingenious in avoiding that very fate, all the way till she came of age and suitors were seeking out brides. Her painting was said to be so beautiful that a handsome prince broke off an engagement with another princess, Boranehn, the instant he saw it. Boranehn was absolutely furious, and sought out the help of the spider to punish him—even though she said he was free to make his choice, she was still offended.
> 
> “The opportunity came when she was on the way to his castle, where the spider, clinging on to Princess Tasallan’s carriage, called upon the powers of Forgotten Ones first to destroy her carriage with a mighty storm, then when she was exposed, to part the clouds instantly to expose her to the sun. It worked, and Princess Tasallan was transformed into a halla, running off into the woods whilst the Forgotten Ones made Boranehn look like Tasallan, and she proceeded to the wedding, the prince unawares.
> 
> “However, the spider and the Forgotten Ones had made a terrible mistake when they interceded on Boranehn’s behalf, for the sudden storm and sunlight had killed many inhabitants of the woodland, even if none of the elves had lost their lives, and Mythal was incensed. First, she dispelled the magic which Boranehn had used, and Boranehn fled when her deception was revealed to all, but not before spitefully boasting that the prince would never find Tasallan, and he would kill her long before he managed to lift her curse.
> 
> “The prince and all his men rode out of his castle, searching the lands of his realm high and low for Tasallan, but they never found her because she was in the form of a halla, one amongst hundreds that roamed his lands, and he eventually collapsed by a stream, utterly exhausted by his search for his bride-to-be. He slept fitfully, and eventually, Tasallan found him, and approached him as he rested under a tree.
> 
> “The spider had one last trick to play, clouding the prince’s vision such that it was not Tasallan, and not a halla which he saw when he woke up, but a massive wolf, its teeth bared, ready to pounce and strike down its prey. He readied his bow and loosed an arrow, and the spider laughed to himself as he witnessed the prince committing such an unforgivable transgression by not only killing his bride by accident, but also slaying a halla.
> 
> “But even as Ghilan'nain blocked the arrow which would have pierced Tasallan’s heart and reached out to smite the hapless prince for his error, Mythal stayed his hand, explaining that the prince had been led into delusion by the spider, whom she banished into the caves which saw no light. Their power, however, was insufficient to undo the curse which the Forgotten Ones had lain so many years ago, at least not in the daytime, so although the prince gratefully tended for the halla and kept it in his stables, he did not know that Tasallan woke up every night on the stable floor, nor did the stable hands bother to check at night.
> 
> “Mythal pleaded with Elgar’nan to intercede on Tasallan’s behalf, but he said he could not act unless the prince himself realised the halla’s true nature. To this end, Mythal clouded the mind of one of the stable boys, making him leave the door unlocked, and Tasallan, finding the gate open, went her way into the palace, where the prince’s guards attempted to chase her out until Elgar’nan stopped the moon in the sky to cover the sun, transforming it back into Tasallan before the prince’s eyes, and the two of them reunited.
> 
> “The two of them married and lived happily ever after, but where Boranehn and the spider fled, no one knows to this day, save that the spider’s offspring now lurks in caves, ready to prey on careless wanderers. And that’s how that tale ends.”

With that, Rivka expectantly turned to Solas to see what kind of reaction he’d have, be it bemusement or a barely-restrained correction of some minor point or other in her story. To her surprise, he expressed neither, simply staring out to the frozen lake outside Haven, eyes glistening in the brilliant shine coming off the snow which blanketed the scenery.

“Solas?”, Rivka asked, trying to rouse his attention.

Slowly realising she’d called his name, Solas turned to her, casually wiping his eyes dry. “Hm? Ah, yes. That was a wonderful tale, lethallan.”

“Really”, she retorted, crossing her arms. “It seems you hardly were paying attention right at the end there, if we’re being honest.”

Waving his hand in front of his face defensively, he said, “That is untrue. It…simply dredged up some emotions, old and very powerful, I had experienced of those closest to Mythal, and how they would have appreciated her love and care as your Princess Tasallan had. And Elgar’nan…”

Rivka leaned forward, unfolding her arms and setting them on her knees, asking interestedly, “What of him?”

Solas laughed sharply, saying, “Oh, nothing, really. I’m just astonished that old All-Father was so positively restrained there. Were it up to me I’d have smote the spider from all existence, myself.”

“Creators forbid, Solas,” Rivka said. “Where would we get all that silk otherwise?”

Shrugging, he conceded, “You may well have a point there. I suppose they were good for _something_ after all. I don’t know about you, but I shall retire to my quarters. You’ve given me a great deal to think about with that tale, I must say.”

“Oh?”

“Old memories kept alive by the young…” he said, trailing off, before adding, “Imagine if they were still here to listen to what stories your ilk had to say about them these days. I imagine they’d be quite amused.”

“The way of our people is that we can only hope that they do somehow…somewhere,” Rivka concluded, hooding her eyes and glancing towards the unclouded sun hanging over them all, turning away to gather her things and leave for a warmer choice of locales along with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: https://athenril-of-kirkwall.tumblr.com/post/638528627356696576/


End file.
